Speculation
by catsandsvu
Summary: Picks up around season 15. Her Negotiation never happened. Kathleen Stabler's wedding reception. Detective Olivia Benson shows up for the reception, and she's guarded and prepared. It's a Stabler wedding, so let's use our imaginations to see who's there. Slow building. In character.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, SVUniverse.** This is my first attempt at a fic, so I know it's probably not great, but just track with me. I have a plan and everything. Whoooop. This is post season 14. Only Her Negotiation never happened because unlike the current writers, I don't feel the need to physically torture Olivia. But you never know. Hi Robyn, Nikki, Ashley, Megan. :) Review it or do whatever you want. tell me it blows. JUST tell me something. ;)

* * *

The leaves in Central Park were brilliant colors. Autumn had just started to settle in. It's mid September. Warm. Light breeze. It slightly lifted her curled strands of hair that framed her face, and she sighed, tucked it behind her ear. She took step after uncomfortable step. The wind untucked it almost immediately, and she ignored it. Why bothering with something you can't control? You can try, but you'll end up turning a blind eye to it eventually. The world has bigger problems than hair that won't stay in place. To her, every color had slightly dulled. Every sound had dulled. She pretends for herself. She pretends that all this is beautiful, and she pretends she notices it. It's been like this for a few years. The hues were not as bright, and the pastels of the flowers lining the walkway were another shade of gray in her world. She saw things in black and white.

_We invited you to celebrate the union of Mr. James Jonathan Levi & Miss Kathleen Bernadette Stabler on the Fourteenth of September at Eight p.m._

* * *

The lights twinkled around Belvedere Plaza in Central Park. She didn't see them. She didn't _see_ anything anymore. She just walked. Black strapped dress. It was flattering enough. It flowed down to right above her knee, loosely. The empire band under her chest was a little too tight. But it's not unusal. Her chest is always little too tight. It's gotten a little better. It was cut straight across her chest. Her collarbones were visible, as were her arms. She was keeping it modest. She was in heels that should've bothered her, but then again, nothing does. She wasn't trying to be enticing. Just dressed up for a wedding. _A wedding._

_How many attending?_

She kept walking the pathway to make her way up to the castle. She'd missed the ceremony, but she RSVP'd three months ago. The last minute, she decided to throw her hair up in a clip, and curl the sides. She didn't think. She never did. Thinking doesn't do anything. It just opens the tender scar inside her chest and chokes her throat. It's just a wedding. Just a young lady she's known for fifteen years. _God. She's 23. I remember when she was just thirteen and El-_ _We closed a case tonight. We got a full confession. _She speaks loudly over a rising memory. This is what she's learned to do. Silently yell. Silently drown it. Block it's entry. Prevent it from being a complete thought. _Stay on the job, Benson. Closed a case. He confessed. A rapist with a conscience. Tutuola is an asshole._

_"You closed a case in an hour, even got time to get your ass home and prettied up." Olivia had raised an eyebrow and went back to finishing her paperwork. Fin had chuckled and shook his head. "We missed the ceremony, but we could crash the after party."_

But he'd called Olivia on her way to the reception, apologizing, and oweing her breakfast on Monday because Rollins asked him to have her six. They had a lead on an eight month old case.

Olivia would've flaked if she hadn't been two blocks from the reception, and if Fin wouldn't have said that she wasn't needed. _Be polite, Olivia._

_Attending: 1._

* * *

"God, isn't this place just gorgeous?" A voice spoke and then sighed. Olivia suddenly realized a woman was to her left. She suddenly realized she was walking in a crowd of people up toward the party.

"They did a great job, for sure." She commented back with a smile. She suddenly heard the buzzing chatter of the guests around her. _Kathleen and J.J. have got to be the best looking couple - The dress was a little plain, I gotta say, but her hair was beautif - I hope the music isn't country - I love the bubbles instead of rice or bird seeds - Her dad looked tense as hell walking her down the aisle. _Olivia clenched her teeth together, and recited the Miranda warning in her head. In English. Then Spanish. Then French. Then she signed it in ASL discreetly.

Just as she was about to stop for a break from the heels, everyone flooded into the already crowded wedding reception. It was glamorous. She waited in line to be seated, and the staff and caterers were all black tie, as were the guests. She felt a little underdressed, and she pulled her hair out of the clip and tucked it into her purse. She prepared for this. You can never predict the style of weddings, she'd learned. She reached in to her purse and pulled out her diamond necklace, and hooked it. She never wore it. Frankly, she didn't care for it. It was flashy, and it's not her style at all. Her mother had left it to her. She planned to sell it if ever she needed a decent amount of money in a quick amount of time. She spotted Kathy almost immediately.

"Name?" The hostess asked. She looked to be in her 60s or 70s. She had long gray hair that was slicked back into a ponytail, but she didn't seem tired. Olivia can't remember a time when she wasn't tired. She doesn't remember what energy actually feels like.

"Benson." Olivia half-smiled. She adjusted her purse strap and rubbed her arm.

"Olivia Benson, table eight." The hostess pointed to the same direction as Kathy Stabler, but back to the right. Olivia walked with her eyes glancing around, trying to look occupied, awed, trying to avoid drawing her partn- drawing the woman's attention. It worked. She sighed and smiled, seeing a comfortable presence ahead. She clicked in her heels to the table where her captain, and Sergeant John Munch sat.

"Where can I get a drink?" Olivia chuckled and set her purse down beside her chair and sat to the left of Munch at the round table. The centerpiece was simple. It was a vase with a cinnamon? pumpkin? smelling candle and around the vase was another glass layer filled with gold, auburn, and dark brown glass rocks.

"Open bar." John nodded across the room. "You look about as comfortable as I feel in a tux." He states as he sipped on his drink. Don Cragen chuckles.

"You look about as comfortable as I feel around an open bar." He jokes at his own expense. Olivia grimaced and lifted her foot from under the table.

"Not exactly the shoes I'm used to wearing, guys. But thanks for the compliments." She smirked, and ran her fingers through her hair. She swallowed hard and ground her teeth together. She ran her hand through her hair again and shifted her position.

"Scotch?" Munch stood up and put his hand on her shoulder. She chuckled and nodded once.

"On the rocks with a twist." She suggested. He patted her shoulder and walked toward the bar. Captain Cragen looked up, and Olivia was still watching John walk away with too much focus. He watched her jaw flex.

"Liv-" Cragen started, the sound of sympathy and warning blended together in one tone. She turned her head to him and held up her hand.

"I'm fine." She nodded, and raised her eyebrows. "How was the ceremony?" She asked, her eyes focusing on the waiter walking over with appetizers. He set the tray down, smiled, and walked away. She reached for a the bowl of dinner mints in the center of the table instead.

"Predictable. All weddings are the same." Cragen offered. "She tripped over her vows a bit. She promised to love him in hickness and in stealth instead of sickness and health. Got a good laugh."

Olivia chuckled once and popped a mint into her mouth. Olivia saw John walking back, and mouthed a thank you. He set the drink down in front of her. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice closer to her ear. "He's coming from behind us to the right."

Her fingers felt numb around her glass and she nodded. He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She braced herself. It hadn't been a breath yet since Munch straightened his back. _He had the balls_ to walk over here when she was still sitting here. He had the guts to walk this direction when he hadn't even breathed in her direction for two years. He hadn't sent a telephone wave her direction for two years. He didn't send an email her direction for two years. He left her alone for two years. He ran in the opposite direction. He ran and he hid. The empire band below her chest was suddenly much tighter than she recalled.

She felt his presence before she felt his hand on her shoulder.

Her hand shook around her glass and her whole body trembled immediately. It was less than half a second reaction. The ice clinked audibly for not even a fourth of a second. She regained composure as immediately as she lost it. Nobody saw her reaction. He burned her. His rough, calloused hand burned into her shoulder, and her stomach lit ablaze. His thumb lightly brushed over her shoulder bone, and she ground her teeth together for the hundreth time in the last ten to fifteen minutes. The searing heat turned to a burning chill and it travelled down her arm and to her wrist. The sip she'd had of her drink was ravaging her insides, dissintegrating any comfort, and replacing it with nausea.

She flexed her hands and cleared her throat.

His hand left her shoulder almost as immediately as he'd touched her. It just a tap, in all reality. But it was the tap that cracked her walls and opened the roaring floodgates that she now guarded with her pathetic paper thin facade of indifference.

And she turned around.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I was not expecting so many people to read this, and dear goodness, I appreciate it. I wasn't even going to continue. I honestly want to die because the pace of this is so slow and I just I hate everything about these idiots and they ruin my life and so, here is chapter two. I won't be updating weekly. It'll probably turn into an every-other-week thing, if not monthly. The chapters take me forever to write, and I write in a notebook so my life is much harder than I need it to be. But no matter what I write, it will never compare to Atlantis so

* * *

Her shoulder felt like it was going to blister. She caught a glimpse of the side of him, but he moved to her left, toward Munch and Cragen. Her eyes close, and she flexes her muscles. Every muscle in her body. If he touched her again, it wouldn't hurt. He brushed his hand for a split second on her shoulder. A warning? A greeting? He should _know _that this isn't okay for her. Her brain shuts off. _I shouldn't have come. I could've sent Kathleen the card in the mail. She would've been okay with that. I never should have expected him to avoid me like he should. He's an ass. He does whatever he wants on his own will and only thinks about himself. Always has, always w-_ She shuts up internally. Her own internal chatter annoys her sometimes, and other times, it makes her tense as hell. Now, it was a combination of both. She reaches down beside her and pulls the strap of her purse up into her lap, and she glances to her left, toward the three of them.

His back is turned and she realizes that he's talking to thei-her captain. He's so familiar, she's not sure she's here. She bites the inside of her cheek, and tosses that momentary theory. His stance is the same as it was. His hands are together, his back is straight, and his feet are apart.

She's watched his hair thin over the years. It's barely changed, but she can only see the back of him. Knowing that she could see his face any moment unnerves her. She doesn't know what she'll see, and she's not sure what she wants to see. She can't see. She looks away when she decides she doesn't want to see. She hasn't _heard_ his voice. And the sound registers with her. A shovel hollows out her guts and throws her heart to an empty warehouse where the beats echo, and she can't seem to find it. Indifference drowns her. Her brain defends itself immediately. His deep, gravelly voice and Brooklyn accent smoothed her thoughts, and she barely recognized it. She didn't hear his forming words answering questions, saying a thank you. But at the same time, she heard the sound, and she had to tune it out. She listened for anything she could. She heard too many feet. Heels, boots, shoes. She heard glasses clinking, and ice, and liquid, and she heard music. She grabbed that. She listened for anything. One specific sound to keep her thoughts in a single, focused direction. Piano. She focused on piano coming from the speaker from across the floor somewhere. It was an upbeat song, but she can't make out the words. When she tries to hear the words, it wavers her focus. It moves quickly and she can't follow it. She tries to dig for the sound of the piano, and it's drowned out by vocal, or guitar, or drums. It drowns out her place to breathe, and she clenches her jaw.

She doesn't like scotch. She wants to drink a beer, and she wants to drop off the card and walk out, and take her shoes off, and throw them off the edge of the planet, and she doesn't want to talk to him, or know that he's near her. She wants to scrub him off of her shoulder. Olivia wants to scream. She wants to ruin him and make him feel miserable. As miserable as she's been these last two _I'm not miserable. I function. I'm okay. I'm a good cop. _She pulls her purse strap on to her forearm, exhales and brings her sight back, only then realizing that her eyes were closed. _Numb it. _She hears the same song playing, and it's only been a verse.

This is what she is now. Her time barely moves. She feels everything is slow motion. Uncomfortable. Frustratingly slow, and she wants to shake, but she's flexing every muscle in her body so she doesn't. She doesn't shake. She's fine. She shuts up before she speaks, and from nowhere, she remembers.

From nowhere, she knows. She knows everything, and remembers everything. It floods back all at once and she doesn't know where it's been resonating. She doesn't know why this is happening now. Olivia inhales through her nose to calm herself, and her heart jumps slightly. But she braces herself. She knows her body language will never give away her thoughts. It's taken her years to perfect that. She won't let this take her. He won't take her like this. But, she _knows _what he smells like. Irish spring. She remembers him. From nowhere, it comes to her, and her throat aches. Her neck hurts, and she aches. She remembers walking on his right. She sat on his right because he was always the one driving. She stood against the back right wall in Interrogation 1 when he talked to a suspect or a perp. When he stood behind her at her desk, and leaned over her, she was always on his right. The _right._ It was always right. He was right. _I'm the longest relationship you've ever-_and she squeezes her eyes shut for a second. And she erases that. _Stop, Oliv-IA_

"...via." She catches. She heard it. He spoke. And she realizes that her eyes, again, are shut. They snap open, and her barriers close. And he was there. In front of her. He's the same. He was exactly the same and he was two years older, and two years less to her. He was in front of her and he was inside her air.

* * *

She looks inside him. He's never been so afraid of her. She was nothing like he thought she'd be at this point. She was different.

She isn't tuned to him. She doesn't hear him. He feels a punch in the gut when he realizes that she didn't shift when he did, like they used to. They were satellites. Only one of them has crashed, and he's not sure which one of them it is. He glances at her face, and her eyes don't meet his. He is sitting at the table across from her, and his chair is turned toward her. His knees are near hers. There's about a six to ten inch space between them. And he imagines he can feel her heat. But he can't. He won't. God wouldn't grant him something like that. God doesn't have enough mercy, enough grace, for something like that.

His former captain and friend walked away moments ago to find the picture boards, leaving him alone with her. Moments, seconds, milliseconds, minutes? ago, he said her name - and she straightened a little. She came back. She'd only lost control for a second.

But _God, _she looked heartbreaking. For so many reasons. Her face. Her composed expression. Her presentation. Her hair. Her hair grew a lot, and it's entirely different. It's wavy. It's almost curly. It goes longer than where he's willing to look. It goes past her shoulders, and he doesn't think about her shoulders. He doesn't think, because he doesn't deserve to.

God, he wants to look at her. He wants to _see _her. He doesn't deserve to. He does not deserve a damn thing that God conjured enough grace up to give him tonight.

His daughter. God lent him Olivia, and in doing so, he got his daughter back. Years ago, now. Katie's arrest, Olivia, his mother, the story.

His daughter had told him, and he seethed. _Chasing snowflakes. Sonofabitch_, he seethed rage. She had no right to talk to his _mother. _This is _his_ family, and she had _no goddamn right. _After that, Kathy had shut him up. And it blew him away. Kathy stood up for Olivia. _Olivia. _She was the reason Kathleen was on the medicine, and she was accepting responsibility for her actions because Olivia got through to her when they couldn't. Olivia has a right, Kathy had said. He remembers her face. She frowned and shook her head - irritated with the idea. Not because she didn't like Olivia as a person - but because she was in possession of Elliott, and she was still insecure enough to think that Olivia could possibly jeopardize their family, when she'd proved time after time that she could save it. She still didn't want to believe their marriage slipping downhill was their fault. She bit her tongue and didn't say the next sentence, and they both knew what it was. What she was. _Family._ Four years following, he sits here, at her wedding. His daughter's wedding. She's getting her wedding pictures taken somewhere in Central Park, and she told him a few weeks ago, she accredits this to Olivia._ Olivia. _He sits across from the woman who saved his daughter.

"Bet this was a bust on your wallet." Olivia chuckles once. Her voice comes out of nowhere. He watches her flinch when she speaks, and he's not sure why that happened. She hasn't yet looked directly in his face.

"Probably could same about the same as that necklace." He nods toward her. "You look gr-"

"Don't do it, El." Olivia cuts him off. She tilts her head slightly, trying to relieve some of the pain in her neck from being so stiff, and her eyes lift to his. "I'm not here to see you." She says off-handedly. It's not intended to sting, she's just letting him know that her intention was not to come here to see him. Because it wasn't. She reaches her hand back and rubs the nape of her neck, and scratches, shaking her hair a little, as if giving her shoulders and back a second to breathe. Her spine felt hollow. Her eyes left his and went everywhere except back to his face.

And he see's her.

He sees her sleepless nights, and she feels his eyes. The touch her face. They caress her eyes, and she wants to go home.

"I know. I didn't invite you." He speaks. He instantly realized how that sounded. He bit the inside of his cheek and opened his mouth before she...god only knows what. She's so guarded, he can't even see her eyes because she's endlessly moving them. All he wants to do is hold her gaze. If that's the only part of her he can have, then that's what he would take. "That's now what I-"

"I know what you meant." She chuckles humorlessly behind closed, flattened lips, and picks up her drink. She half smiles, and the depth of her eyes is about as deep as her scotch, and he can't read her. She's an entirely new language. She swishes the ice, but doesn't take bring it to her mouth.

She raises her chin, and crosses her legs. "How're the kids?" She asks him. "Besides the married ones." She chuckles and takes a sip. His eyes trail down to her right arm. He remembers this. She does this. She puts the purse in her lap. The strap is half on her forearm, and she's going to leave. She'll try. He doesn't blame her. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn't have shown up. But she gives away endless pieces of her comfort away. _Saint._

"Put your purse down." He calls her out on her shit. "She'll be upset if she doesn't see you, and it'll be my fault." He puts air quotes around the last two words, and looks out in the crowd for someone to shoot him. He deserves it. He sees the unsure, forced way that she's sitting. She's purposefully trying to look like she's comfortable and she looks everything but.

_But God, she's..._He'd known she'd be here. And he'd known she'd shut him down completely. She had every right to, and _god, _she's going to kill him. Her eyelashes are full. Her skin is shimmering, golden, and her cheeks are lightly blushed. He won't look below that. He won't look at her mouth. She has dark circles covered by the makeup she's wearing, and he says the way her eyebrows slightly pitch up in the middle, like she's afraid of something, and trying to force her face to be composed. She off-sets it with her body language. Her left arm is crossed over her waist and holds her right elbow. That hand holds her drink. She's guarding herself physically, and he knows he won't touch her.

"I can't stay all night, Elliott. I have to w-"

"Work tomorrow, I know. I..." Elliott ground his lips together, and ran his hand down his jaw. His eyes raked her quickly, and he felt like he was giving her his only hand he had. He didn't have any cards to play. He wasn't even sure what they were playing, or if they were at all. He rubbed his hands together roughly. "You don't owe me a damn thing, Liv." His voice dropped lower, and his accent was thick. She wanted to crawl inside his voice and sleep. She wanted to remember what _rest _feels like. "Say hi to Kathleen. That much." He lifts his head back to hers, and and he sees her eyes flash for the briefest second. Distinct, sharp, and brutal as hell, they flash _loss._ It leaves as immediately as it arrives, and she nods. She agreed.

He wants to take the drink from her hand and touch her arms. He wants to run his fingers down her bare skin and wrap her in his hands, and watch her head fall forward, and feel her skin chill with goosebumps. He wants her to exhale against him when he pulls her against him, and her body warms. He wants to absorb her and hide her in his skin, and make her forget whatever made that awful look appear in her eyes. He looks at her shoulders. They're as straight as ever. Her posture has always exhausted him. How she holds herself up like this, he doesn't want to speculate. He wonders when she lets her shoulders drop these days. She always looks like she's holding in a deep inhale. But her throat, her shoulders - they move. It's proof of life. She still breathes. She's alive. He scans her again, and his eyes roll over the tops of her arms, and he clenches his jaw, and momentarily narrows his eyes at the almost completely faded bruises. Small ovals, yellowed, nearly back to being the color of her olive skin. Three of them. They look like fingerprints fading away. Realization has him exhaling. He's not sure if it's a sigh, or a release, or just the working of his respiratory system. He sees her. A case too hard. A night too long. Her own arms crossing, and her fingers pushing into her skin, holding herself together. Evidence. The only evidence of a breakdown that he's sure she didn't let come through like she needed it to. A moment's he's positive that nobody had seen, or knew about. His once-over of her was about three seconds, and she'd just felt the awkward silence and not his assessment.

He clears his throat and he puts his hands on his knees to stand up, and she unexpectedly lowers her purse to the ground beside the front leg of her chair. He looks back at her face. He doesn't try to read her. He knows that whatever just changed her position was inside her thoughts, and it's making her sit. His lips flatten into a line, and she grinds her teeth audibly. He pushes himself up off the chair, and she feels her pulse inside her throat, and he starts to turn, but re-thinks and he looks back to smile at her. He watches her eyes widen a little bit, and he flexes his hands.

"I've got about two hundred fifty people to thank, so -" he nods behind him and she understands.

"I know." Olivia nods and gives him a close-mouthed half-smile. Their eyes touch again. They don't immediately dart their looks like they'd both been doing the last few minutes. She cracks inside. The barricades around her mind, her heart, they collapse. Instead of the roaring ice water, she warms from the inside out. She runs her hand through her hair, before she can think about it, and her chest aches with nostalgia. The warmth floods her gut, and she lets herself have this. Have him, for this instant, she has him back. It's the first time she's felt safe in too long.

She's so _warm._

Her face flushes a slightly deeper color, and he doesn't acknowledge that he notices it. He's not going to make her feel embarrassed. He doesn't want to give her a reason at all to walk out of here before she sees Kathleen.

He raises his eyebrows and she holds his eyes. He holds hers. They embrace each other the only way they know how to do. They only way they did. The blue and brown melt and run together, and unbeknownst to each other, they both feel the tension in their necks and temples lighten. And they sync. Then they sink. They remember. At the same time, they nod, and smile when it happens.

She feels. She remembers this. She's not unraveling, but whatever this is, it feels _right. _And she doesn't feel sick anymore. He knows she won't open anything for him. He doesn't expect her to. He backs up, keeping in contact with her.

Just before he turns, he sees move her hand to set her drink down. He speaks to her again.

"You look great, Olivia." He calls back toward her. Olivia's drink hits the table a little louder than intended, and her ice clinks. She flinches, and he smirks lightly at her, then turns toward the unfamiliar couple walking his way, and steps forward.

Her chest tingles, and she wants to laugh.


	3. Taking Off

A/N: I'm sorry this is so late. I thank you guys so much for reading. This is full of mess-ups, and I'm actually looking for a beta to even out my dyslexia, so anyone interested, hit me up! Also, go check out Lyricara. She's FAMOUS for writing Atlantis, the best SVU fic of all time, and she's just returned. Thank you for sticking with me!

* * *

"You want a club soda or anything, Cap?" Olivia points to the bar, as she unintentionally meets him in the middle of the floor.

"Yeah, I appreciate that." Cragen tries to catch her eyes. "You okay?" He inquires and shifts his position, uncomfortable. She knows what his silent question is. She relaxes her stance a little, and sees him exhale a little bit in response. It's a silent exchange, and he knows she's not going to be miserable tonight.

"I'm good." She nods. He nods back, and heads to the table. She knows that's all he's going to say about it. He's never probed her, because he knows that she can handle whatever she has going on inside her head.

Olivia moves forward and curses internally for wearing the heels from hell she'd decided to put on, and she makes her way closer to the bar, and she exhales when she sees that they have her beer.

"What can I get you?" The male behind the counter asks her.

"Ah, a club soda and a Corona, please." She smiles and he turns to get her drinks. She moves her eyes around the room, and sees a few people she recognizes. Elliot's former partner, Jo, walks in with her husband. Other ones, she can't name. She doesn't try. Her bartender has said something to her and she didn't hear.

"I'm sorry?" She turns back to him and apologizes.

"Tap or bottle?" He repeats.

"Bottle." She responds, and raises her eyebrow. He turns around to go to the 15 foot cooler behind him to grab her beer. The young guy is familiar. She can't decide where she's seen him before, and she assumes it wasn't under good circumstances, considering that she only sees people during her work hours.

"Still on the job?" He asks off-handedly. So he recognized her, then.

"Fifteen years and counting." She smiles. He turns around and puts the drinks in front of her. "Thank you." She nods once and picks the drinks up.

"Can I help you?" The bartender says to a man who walks up to the counter as Olivia leaves. She heads back toward her table and balances the open beer and soda unsteadily. Her dress fits a little bit more loosely. She realizes she doesn't feel constricted inside of it. Air moves freely through her lungs.

She doesn't think about him. Just knows he's here, and it's enough. Tonight, she will know he's still okay. She might reminisce to herself. She might even talk with him once everything starts dying down. She'll maybe even have a beer with him once she's had a good enough amount of beer to convince her that it's even remotely a good idea. She feels comfortable. She remembers that he's somewhere here, and her feet don't hurt, and neither does her head.

She doesn't think about tomorrow.

"John," Olivia bumps his shoulder with her elbow as she comes to her table. "Did you recognize that kid bartending?" She asks him, and she hands Cragen his soda, and she takes a sip of her beer, and sits back down in her seat.

"Yeah. Don't know who he is though. We might have questioned him before. Thanks for the drink, by the way." He jibes. Olivia chuckles, and shrugs. She takes another drink of her beer and sets it down in front of her.

"I only have two hands, Munch. I'm sure if you try hard enough, you could have a wife by the end of tonight to grab you a beer." Olivia nudges him and nods toward a woman a few years older than her.

"The chances of that are the chances of you getting married before I retire." He returns the dig and they laugh. Munch looks around, and stands up with his empty glass. "They should be done with pictures soon. It's 9:30." He sighed. "What possessed this girl to get 'married under the stars'" he quotes the wedding invitation "is beyond me. You need a lime?" John asks Olivia as she makes a face when she swallows her beer again.

"Yeah, thanks." She laughs and presses her beer against her cheek.

"Where's Fin?" Don asks both of them.

"On a case. He took Rollins with him." Olivia answered, and Munch turned to go get another drink. "Harroner case. Apparently, Wilson now has a property owned under his name. It's a storage space, but it's something. He's been under our radar for, what, six months? He must've thought by now that we weren't on him." She puts her hand out and back in her lap.

"Who found this out?" He raises his eyebrows.

"I think Fin did. He keeps tabs on this case, runs Wilson's credit, checks to see if he's in CODIS. It's still open, and he's persistent." She lolls her head side to side and picks at the label on her bottle. "He bailed last minute. Once Kathleen gets here, and I get a chance to congratulate her, I think I'll let Rollins off and take over for her."

"Well, he doesn't have a search warrant, so he better not do anything stupid." He shakes his head. "They both should've taken tonight off. You're to go home. Take tomorrow. It's been a while. If they're not back by ten, pull them." He instructs Olivia. She nods in agreement, and crosses her legs.

"_Ladies and gentlemen!" _A female voice shoots out of a speaker. "Can we give a welcome to the best damn couple here tonight?" She yells. Everyone in the room cheers and they all stand up. She realizes how the room has filled. There are a _lot_ of people. She wouldn't be able to find… Olivia panics for a second before she sees Kathy. If Kathy is there then, he's near. _Calm down. What is your problem? _She scolds herself. Olivia shakes her head. She spots Elliot in the front, grabbing the mic. Her throat loosens, and she breathes. She knows that her not seeing him for a split second, and then having this reaction, is not a good thing by any means. But she shakes her head again, and pushes that thought aside, because it doesn't matter. He's here. He's still here.

"Katie and J.J Levi!" Elliot, Kathy, and a woman beside him yell at the same time, he assumes the groom's mother. His voice washes her from head to toe. All the aches in her joints flow out of her body, and a smile effortlessly and accidentally crawls onto her face. Her stomach rolls inside of her, and she feels him protecting her for twelve years. Tonight, they would talk. It would be like nothing had happened. Just once. For tonight, they're partners. He's protecting her. She's nowhere near him, but she feels safe. Olivia and her captain stand up and everyone bursts into applause and hoots and whistles as Kathleen and her husband run into the crowd of people, holding their intertwined hands high in the air.

* * *

Olivia tosses her head back a little and laughs at her boss with Munch. She likes these moments. The rare moments when she'd listened to Munch or Cragen's stories from their time before SVU. Their rookie days. Everyone has embarrassing rookie stories. She smiles, knowing that some of hers are less than attractive. She's a little loosened up from the scotch and 3 beers she's had. Dinner was good. Salad. Fish. Soup. Crème Brule. She can't remember what kind of fish it was, but it was definitely Catholic cuisine, and it was good. Kathleen had thanked her during her speech, briefly, with little detail, but enough, along with the other fifty people in her speech, but Olivia smiled and waved at her, and walked over to Kathleen a few minutes later after she'd walked away from her place at the wedding party's table. Olivia smiled to herself and replayed Kathleen's comment in her head.

_"…__Olivia Benson for getting through my hard head years ago when no one else could and helping me kick off a new start."_

"Congratulations, Kathleen." Olivia had hugged her back when Kathleen enthusiastically embraced her.

"I'm really glad you're here, Liv." Kathleen smiled and held on to her for a second, and pulled back. "Before the night is over, you're gonna dance with me." She smiled and nodded with her eyes wide, trying to encourage Olivia into the idea, as if she had a choice.

"Oh, I don't know about th—"

"I'll get her to, baby." Elliot called from a few feet away. "Give it a few beers." He laughed and went back to talking to the guy in front of him Olivia didn't recognize. She'd shot him a look and shook her head, but he didn't see.

"We'll see." She laughed and patted Kathleen's back with the hand she still had placed there.

"I gotta go to the bathroom like you wouldn't believe. I'll see you later, Liv!" Kathleen smiled and called as she'd walked away, her bridesmaid jogging over to her to probably help her maneuver her dress in the restroom.

She'd talked to Kathy about forty minutes after that. Kathy had spotted her from a few feet away, and Olivia heard her name being called. She had walked over with a man on her side that she did not recognize.

"Matt, this is Olivia Benson. She's Elliot's old partner." Kathy introduced her without a greeting. Liv felt a little more than awkward, as he took her hand and shook it.

"I've heard a lot about you from this woman over the last couple years." He smiled warmly and released her hand. "Eli's savior, huh?" He commented.

"Ah, so that's what she's been telling you?" Olivia chuckled and put her hand on Kathy's arm. "How are you, Kathy?" She smiled and tried to look as comfortable as possible.

"Pretty good. You look good, Olivia. Still with the unit?" Kathy'd asked. Olivia had been totally thrown off by her demeanor until she smelled the wine on her.

"Fifteen years and counting." She'd repeated what she told the bartender earlier. "You look good. How's Eli?"

"He's great. He's started kindergarten a week ago, can you believe it?" She sighed and laughed. "I got one married and one just starting school." She shook her head and a woman called her name from behind her, and Kathy turned and gave her an enthusiastic hello.

"It was good to see you." Kathy smiled and waved her hand up once, in goodbye. She'd walked forward and Matt had put his arm around Kathy's waist and walked away with her, and the air rushed out of Olivia.

"You too!" She called after her, a little too quietly, and she wasn't sure she was heard.

_It doesn't matter, Olivia. Their marriage had been rocky all the years you'd known them. Why should this be surprising? _She'd spoken to herself internally.

* * *

"I don't want to see you tomorrow, Benson. You come in, and you're getting sent right back out." Cragen directed her as he stood up to leave. It was 11:30 by this point. "Either you need a ride?" He offered, knowing she's had four beers. She hadn't drank in about an hour, and she felt fine. A little tired, but fine. Olivia smiles and nudges John with her shoulder.

"He's trying to parent us, Munch." She teases lightheartedly. John chuckled.

Cragen rolls his eyes, and pointed at both of them. "If I see you tomorrow, I'll have you arrested. Take a cab, Olivia."

She nodded and walked to where she'd taken residence for most of the night. "I'm actually gonna get going too, in a mi-" Olivia reached down to pick up her purse from her chair, but her purse was grabbed by someone else to her left, and she looked up.

"She's gonna have a beer with me first, and then I'll take her keys and put her in a cab, Cap." His voice spoke from behind her. She hadn't felt him approach, and it sent a slight panic through her that she didn't realize he'd been standing behind her.

"All right. Thanks for the invite, Stabler. Better see your ass around more than just at weddings." Cragen half smiled and turned to walk out.

"You can come to my next one." Elliot called after him. "Or Munch's." He hollered his direction, and laughed. Munch nudged Elliot with his shoulder and laughed.

"Or his next divorce party, maybe we'll actually get invited." John challenged loudly for Cragen to hear it as well.

Don laughed and looked over his shoulder. "Everyone get home safe." He returned the holler, and pointed back at the three of them, and he walked out the door.

"Well, old friend, I'm gonna head out, myself." Olivia heard Munch say, and she heard a slight noise, that she assumed was them shaking hands.

"Hey, it was good to see you, John." Elliot's accent was so much more defined than she remembered. Munch said something back, but she didn't hear the words he said. She still listened to Elliot's voice, and she played it back in her head. It sounds like he's never been in Manhattan a day in his life, and she tried to swallow, but her throat closed a little too tightly. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head and smiled at John.

"Hey, drive safe." She patted his back with her hand, and he put his arm around the middle of her back for a moment.

"You got it, kid. Call me if you need a ride." He offered and stepped out.

"Congrats, Stabler. See you around." He waved his hand once and turned, and went to make his way through the crowd, out of the room. She kept her eyes on his back until he left the reception, and she felt the misplacement, and the awkward set into her skin. She leaned forward again and pulled up her purse strap from the table, where she hadn't realized Elliot had set it, and put it on her shoulder.

She heard Elliot turn and thank someone behind him, and she realized. She's been here for three and a half hours and was so reassured by the fact he was here, that they barely spoke. She didn't feel the need to speak. It was like nothing of the last two years had happened. She just had a good time with her colleagues. She had a few beers, and they swapped stories, and she hadn't acted like that in years. She felt a growing irritation, because she felt too loose. She turned around and waited for him to turn around again and face her. Her mind raced. She tried to form words inside her head, but it was static, and flying too quickly, and she couldn't grip herself. Beyond her inability to form a coherent sentence, she realized that she also couldn't conjure up the strength to say goodbye. She couldn't find the strength to admit that having him in the same vicinity gave her the first pain-free day she's had in years. Nothing in her body hurt, even slightly. She didn't want to ask him what he is doing now. She refuses to believe that he and Kathy didn't make it work for their kids. She knows that they could've tried harder. She wants to yell at him, and ask him why he let go of everything. Why he left everything. She wants to make him _understand that he's_ - she feels the familiar ache in her neck return, and she watches him. He nods and puts his hand on this man's shoulder and pats him, and she again, reminds herself to shut up. She feels the balls of her feet shouting at her to take these damn shoes off, and instantaneously decides she can't tell him goodbye.

He had never told her goodbye. And that realization threatens hits her like a ton of bricks, and she shuts herself up as tightly as she ever has before she feels it, and she turned on her heels, and walked forward.

She smiled to Kathy and Maureen as they looked up at her. She breezed past them talking to Elliot's mother, who has her back to Olivia. She waves a goodbye to them, and mouthed a congratulation. They both wave back and return immediately to their conversation. She turns her eyes back toward the edge of the room before she has to make any goodbye contact with anyone else, and sees the door a few paces in front of her, and she inhales, because she feels how tight her chest is becoming.

She doesn't want to feel this again. She liked - _Shut up, Olivia. Keep walking. These shoes are hell_. She rambles to herself again. And she passes through the door, out onto the walkway. She felt her throat tighten, and her eyes had a dry sting. _Tomorrow, I'm going to take down the old shelves, and put up those new ones that have been sitting in the living room for two weeks_. She distracts herself, and listens to the rhythm of her steps as she walks slightly downhill. _They aren't exactly the right color_. She recalls. She exhales for the slight distraction that is working momentarily. _I have that paint in the closet that would work with the color of the walls. I just want to say goodbye to – Shut up. I could pick up different curtains tomorrow. I can't remember the last time I got new curtains. 2001? It was right after 9/11. Yeah. Mom had bought me them after she realized I wasn't dead under a tower or –_

"God damn it, I said 'Stop!'" She feels a hand wrap around her upper arm, and she stumbles sideways on her too-high shoes.

"Damn it." She hissed and she waved her left arm to try to pull herself upright, but he adjusted his position, and his other arm reaches out and steadied her in half a second. In the process, she turned more to him, and gone completely numb, physically.

_Irish Spring._ Two years later, and it's still Irish Spring.

She felt her hand squeezing something, and she couldn't see it. It felt like cloth. Cloth in her hand.

_His jacket._

She was holding on to him. Heartache slid into her chest and she knew she was holding on to him. Felling returned to her in the form of a tsunami. She felt his warmth through the cloth, and realized the air was bitterly cold everywhere. It was so cold outside, and she forgot to bring a coat. She didn't think to. She remembers that she doesn't think anymore, and she needs to remember to more often. She was freezing, except for her upper right arm, and her back. She's been so cold. She's never been _this _cold.

And something else slid up her legs, and her hips. A flowing heat that was just like the one she felt when he'd looked at her, when she first saw him again. It crawled up her stomach and thawed her inside. It slid up inside her ribcage, through her breasts, and in her neck, through her hair, and under her skin. It took away the numbness, the sting, the pins-and-needles. He was holding her up, she knew. It has only been about two seconds since his hand grabbed her arm. Her reaction to his was so fast, she held her breath and braced against it.

Her fingers tightened. Again, her pain was she was aware of Elliot.

* * *

He was aware of her.

His hand loosened around her arm, and she looked like she was bracing herself. Her eyes were closed and she clutched the side of his suit jacket, and his body woke up. They were both in an upright position and he saw inside her closed eyes and knew she had no idea what she was doing. She braced herself against her back, and she was so tense. He felt the muscles in her back against his arm, she was so tightened. Her nose was reddening from the chill, and Elliot wanted to hold her, and thaw her. _God she's beautiful. She's in hell inside her head, and she's still beautiful._ He pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. Her eyebrows were lowered and she had them pinched like she was fighting a headache with her mind, or trying to concentrate so hard that she'd disappear. Vanish. For an irrational second, he believed she could. His hand completely dropped from her arm, and when that happened, hers tightened, and she leaned forward slightly. So slightly, he knew it was involuntary. His arm stayed wrapped around her back. He felt her weight get a little heavier, and he absorbed it easily. He knew she didn't know she was falling. Even a little. She was falling in so many ways. He adjusted it so his fingers could fingers could reach the curve on the left dip of her waist, and he tried to clear his throat. He couldn't. He parted his lips and exhaled. Her hair blew back a little, and her lips pushed together and momentarily pulled inward. Olivia slightly shook her head.

She unclenched her muscles and he felt why she had been in the first place. As soon as she let go, a faint vibration covered her entire body, and she was shaking. He wouldn't know it if his hand wasn't on her, but he felt it. He felt her. Her body was six inches from his at most, and neither of them moved. He felt how soft she was. He remembered how she felt. He burned this into his mind so he wouldn't forget. Because she'd never forgive him for this. He just easily racked up one debt to another that he has to her.

Her eyes blinked steadily. Other than feeling her tremble, her body language was completely blank. He couldn't see the color in her eyes, because she kept them down, and her eyelashes fanned her cheeks. He wants to melt her. He wants to warm everything and side of her, and take her makeup off, and give her back shoes that don't kill her, and he hates everything about himself in this moment because he has no right. Her dress covered her, but her arms and legs were left bare. The band just underneath her chest made the dress flow over her hips. Her hips are as incredible as the last 15 seconds that he's had his hands on her. His _hands on her._

He thinks about pushing her body toward him, and feeling her legs touch his suit pants, and her breasts push into his chest. He wants to feel her heartbeat against him. Proof of life. The best proof he knows exists. He thinks about dropping his hands to her waist, and roaming them up her back, and winding his arms around her bare shoulders and warming her from the inside out.

He wants to tell her why he left.

He thinks about apologizing, and burying his face against the side of her head, when her breath exhales against his neck. He wants to put his hand on her bare skin, and warm her. He thinks about it. About putting his lips against her hair and apologizing so many times that the words stop sounding like words and he slurs them, and tries to remember how to properly say them.

He wants to pick her up, and wrap her around him, and take those damn shoes off of her.

He cleared his throat, and her eyes shot open, but stayed angled down. Her teeth audibly grind together, and the sound gives him goosebumps.

"You're a selfish sonofabitch with a lot of nerve." Olivia spoke evenly before he could talk. Her voice doesn't shake, or crack. She doesn't need to clear her throat. Her hand dropped from his jacket, and by automatic response, his arm left her body.

"I know." He agreed and he shoved his hands into his pockets. He cleared his throat again. His wrists ached, and he wanted to take that stupid necklace off of her neck and rub away the red marks, the indents from the weight of it that he knows are there. He wanted to choke against his urge to touch her.

Her eyes met his and she glared. He felt like the wind was knocking the hell out of him. He wants to talk to her and whisper everything he wants to say into her hair, and he wants to break the glass she has protecting herself. He can see through her. He wants to break her, and take care of the fragile her tonight, right now. He wants to promise her so many things. He wants to take those stupid shoes off of her. She backed away from him, and turned forward again.

"We're not gonna do this, Elliot. Go back to your daughter's reception and don't be selfish." She sounded like she was patronizing him. She started to walk forward again, and he didn't follow her. He watched her move, and watched the way she rubbed her left temple when she thought she was out of sight from him, but she wasn't.

He watched her vanish, and he bit back a smile.

Because he has her keys.

* * *

1:02 AM

Olivia slid backward and clapped with Kathleen, who had rounded up anyone she could to dance. Fin, Kathy, J.J., Elizabeth, Maureen, two of Katie's bridesmaids and Amanda Rollins, whom he'd met an hour ago, tapped their feet on the ground in unison. A lot of the reception had gone home, and the people who were still here were mingling around. He takes another drink of his beer, and chuckles when Elizabeth's left hand smacks into Olivia's right hand, because she's doing the electric slide wrong. Olivia smiles and points the right direction for her hand to go.

Kathleen had pulled her the braids around her head out, and let her hair down. She'd put it up in a ponytail and ditched her shoes. The bride appearance wasn't the most important thing to Kathleen by a long shot. Second to her husband, it was being comfortable and having fun. He smiled when Kathy looks his direction, and she laughs and they all turn to the left. Kath did the same thing at their wedding. She danced and took her hair down, and kicked off the heels she hated. He'd danced with her tonight.

_"__You look great, Kath." He nodded as he moved back and forth with her. Her hand slid up his shoulder, and he'd felt her smile against him. He didn't want to hold her. He didn't want her back. He just felt okay. After 25 years of marriage and watching their daughter's wedding, it felt okay and it didn't feel forced. They weren't forcing anything anymore._

_"__Thanks." And she chuckled as his hand slid slightly lower on her back. He didn't understand her laugh, and she said, "My husband is to our left with his eyes shut. He looks like he's gonna break the beer bottle." She inhaled her laughter and shook her head._

_"__That's the first time I've heard you call him that." He comments and sways closer to the left, to get a reaction out of her._

_"__Took a minute to adjust to. It's only been two months, El." Kathy notified him, and she laughed. "I'm happy with him. Eli calls him Buddy. I'm trying to get him to stop punching Matt." She shakes her head and smiles. "He's definitely a Stabler."_

_"__I'm glad you're happy, Kath. He's a good guy." He commented as he spins them a little. They move back in forth in a comfortable silence, and he feels nostalgic. He doesn't want her back. He doesn't try to think or pinpoint why he feels homesick. He just dances with the mother of his children and remembers 25 years in a few minutes. She pulls her arms down around his waist and hugs him._

_"__We made a good team." She spoke quietly and knows that half the room has their eyes on them. She looks up at him and the song ends. "Thanks for all the good years." She smiled and he hugged her back for a second._

_"__Thanks for being the tougher one out of the two of us." He chuckles and lets her go. She'd pat his chest and walk to her husband after that, and Elliot noticed Fin Tutuola and a blonde woman he immediately made as a cop by the way she looked around. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't decide from what._

_"__Tutuola, you sonofabitch." Elliot called toward Fin's direction. They both grinned widely, and the woman walked forward beside him, and he knew this was the cop who was shot a few months ago by a sniper taking out police._

_"__Stabler." Fin laughed and their hands smacked together in a masculine manner and smiled. "How the hell are you?"_

_"__Pretty good, man." Elliot nodded then turned toward Amanda. "How's the shoulder?" He'd asked Amanda. "You were in every paper, detective." He commented as he took her hand. She smiled warmly and shook his hand back._

_"__I'm his partner. Amanda Rollins." She smiled and nodded. "It's gettin' there." She slightly twanged._

_Elliot nodded and pointed to his own left shoulder where he's been shot twice. "It gets better." He smiled to encourage her. She had to be 30, maybe 33._

_"__Man, you might wanna go find a place to lay low. Benson's mad as hell." Fin chuckled and warned him. "She wants her keys, and she says you got 'em. Sent me to get 'em for her." Elliot laughed, and Amanda's eyes widened._

_"__She'll come get 'em when she gets cold enough." He chuckled and pointed to the bar. "Grab a drink and sit. You guys are workin' too damn late."_

_"__It's your neck, Stabler." Tutuola shrugged. "Man this had'ta been expensive. Congrats though. Won't be too long 'til you're Grandpa Stabler." Fin jokingly punched Elliot's arm, and he and Amanda walked to the bar._

* * *

They all clapped when the song was over, and Olivia laughed at something Kathleen said when she'd pointed to J.J. Her shoes were off and beside her purse at Table 8, with Rollins' stuff beside it.

* * *

_After twenty minutes and not seeing her, he assumed she was freezing or she wasn't there anymore. He told Maureen he'd be right back, and she waved her hand and went back to talking to her new brother-in-law. Elliot rolled his eyes and walked out of the room reception. He knew how stubborn she was._

* * *

_She was leaning against her car, wrapped around herself at the waist and she rubbed her upper arms with her hands. Her cell phone was in her left hand._

_"__Who's comin' to get you?" He called from about twenty feet away. She didn't even flinch. The wind lifted her hair and she ignored him for a minute._

_"__My partner." She spoke nonchalantly and shrugged. She said this to try to burn him a little. To make him back up, and go back to wherever he'd come from._

_"__Yeah? You call him?" He asked as he walked closer to her._

_"__Texted."_

_"__He text back?" A smile teased the corners of his mouth, and he knew that her _partner_ was probably asleep. She didn't respond right away, and he cleaned against her car beside her._

_"__He will." She nodded. He sighed and handed dug out the keys to her car. He made sure that his hand didn't touch hers. It wouldn't help a damn thing. He dropped them into her waiting fingers and half-smiled. She took them and sighed, but didn't say anything or move. He wanted to tell her to stay. She said she'd dance with Kathleen, and she didn't. He knew. He knew that after tonight, she would make sure that she didn't see him again. He wanted to tell her why he left._

_Olivia picked her purse up from the hood of her car, and turned to him. He didn't want to see this. He stared forward. He felt his homesickness find definition._

_"__I need a cup of coffee before I go." She admitted and stared straight ahead. He smiled, and his chest relaxed. She shot him a glance and raised her eyebrows. "You could get it and bring it back here." She suggested and she reached around her neck, and pulled her necklace back so it looked like it was going to choke her. Then he understood she was trying to take it off._

_"__3 packs of Domino sugar, the blue packet ones, the tiniest amount of cream I can manage, and let you stir it?" He suggested, reciting her coffee routine from years ago. Her necklace plopped in her hand, and she dropped it into her purse._

_"__You would remember how you made it." She chuckled. "I never could figure out how. I tried different brands of sugars at the precinct and cream amounts and I stopped drinking coffee altogether about a year and a half ago." She looked up at the sky that was starting to cloud over and involuntarily twitched from the cold. Elliot rubbed his forehead and put his hand back on the car._

_"__You gotta come in, you know." He turned to look at her. They were positioned exactly the same way. Their shoulders were up, and their hands were against the car. He wanted to take his right arm and cross it over her body. He wanted to trap her in between the car and him, and feel her move on to him. He wanted to mesh their bodies and wrap his jacket around her, and put his hand on her thighs and position himself between her legs. He wanted to warm her body, and make her legs wrap around him, with her ass against the car. He wanted her breasts against his chest, and his arms secure around her back. And he wanted to tell her why he left._

_She'd stared at him for a moment and bit the inside of her cheek._

_"__I know." She'd nodded. "Let's go."_

* * *

1:28 am

He laughed and tried to finish the story.

"…and this woman gets shoved out of the house without a shirt on, and from that point, I was kicked out of my _boss's _car, and he put two shots in my shoulder."

"He didn't duck like he should've." Olivia laughed and nudged Amanda. "This one had an excuse. Snipers are different than smugglers."

"We all get shot in shoulder, what's that about?" Fin shook his head and took a drink of his beer. "Liv's never been shot." He points out.

"Stabbed, Fin." She points out, and lifts her left elbow, where a jagged scar shows. "in my own apartment, and once in public." She points to her neck.

"This is exactly why I'm in teaching, and not criminal justice." Maureen laughed and nudged her boyfriend, who Elliot knew was in a criminal justice major. Olivia took a drink of her second cup of coffee and let her eyes slipped closed. He watched her sigh, and a curl falls down to her cheekbone. She rested her chin on her coffee cup in her hands, and doubts he's ever seen anything prettier.

* * *

2:00 am

Kathleen and J.J. pulled away ten minutes ago to go home and sleep before their 6am flight to Los Angeles. Kathy's mom and a few others were picking up trash and throwing things away. Olivia wiped off a few tables. Tomorrow, the cleaning company would come in and clean everything else out; they were just making their jobs easier. Fin hovered protectively near Rollins as she helped Olivia wipe off tables.

* * *

2:20 am

Fin and Amanda, Kathy and Matt, and Elliott and Olivia all walked out of the dark area where the wedding reception had been, and now all separated toward their cars

"I guess ya know when you're gettin' old." Amanda laughed. "We're all drinkin' coffee, and it's what? 2:30 in the mornin'?" Amanda nudged Olivia. "So much for our day off tomorrow, gettin' some sleep early." Olivia nodded.

"That's usually how it goes."

"Cap make you guys take off?" Elliot asked Fin as they walked.

"Arrested if we come in tomorrow." Tutuola frowned and walked forward. "He's giving my case to a rookie for the next 24."

They reached the bottom of the walkway where it emptied into a parking lot, and they all started branching off to go to their cars, yelled goodnights back and forth, exchanged handshakes. The detectives congratulated Kathy on her marriage and her daughters'.

Everyone tapered off and left. Except Elliot and Olivia. When Fin and Rollins car was out of sight, Olivia turned to him.

"It was good to see you, El." She nodded and headed towards her car. He followed her to her it, and when she put her hand on the door handle and slightly opened the door, his right hand reached in front of her and shut it. She turned around and he was so _close _to her.

He stared at her face. She stared back directly into his eyes. She didn't move. He swallowed and rested his left hand on her car window and she backed against it. He watched her expression change from confusion to fear, and he swallowed hard, and ran his right hand down his face.

He wanted to tell her why he left.

"I didn't mean to do this to you, Liv." He gave her space and he watched her breath labor. She looked at him and nodded while she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She wanted to say something, but the effects of the alcohol are long gone. She doesn't have the courage to say what she wanted to. It doesn't matter anyway. _What's done is done. _She thinks to herself. She just nods to him again, and opens her car door.

He doesn't close it. He backs up. And he gives her space. He starts to walk backward to his car, and he feels his heart emptying. She reaches down, and unhooks her shoes, and he watches her toss them in the back seat, and put her head back in relief. He starts to turn to walk toward his car, and he feels her eyes on him.

"Stabler?" She calls out. He stops and spins around to face her and he raises his eyebrows when he sees her expression. Her eyes are narrowed and she looks like she's biting back a smile.

"You could buy me a drink for all the shit you owe me." Olivia suggests, and shrugs. He knows exactly where she means, and narrows his eyes back at her, turns, and heads for his car. Their engines start at the same time, and he smiles and looks her direction and she's smiling back, pushing her hair back out of her eyes and into a ponytail clip that she'd pulled out of her purse.

Elliot turns his car and drives out of the parking lot, and looks in his rearview mirror to make sure hers is pulling out behind him.

He drives forward and _knows_ that sometime, maybe not tonight, but soon - he's going to hold her again.


End file.
